


Obsequious

by diligent_cranberry



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Hero Worship, Light Angst, M/M, One Shot, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, Romantic Angst, Teasing, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:27:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29287545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diligent_cranberry/pseuds/diligent_cranberry
Summary: Alphinaud is at a loss for why he finds his new companion so enthralling.
Relationships: Alphinaud Leveilleur/Estinien Wyrmblood
Comments: 3
Kudos: 19





	Obsequious

Above all, Alphinaud could not stand to be teased. It set his blood alight to be mocked, and usually the one doing it could be upbraided with some clever words or precocious turn of phrase. Estinien could not. 

Words were wholly ineffective. It was not that he _didn't_ understand that Alphinaud was trying to politely admonish him. He just did not care. It rolled off his gleaming armour like smoke. Infuriating. 

When Alphinaud had spied the Warrior of Light staggering out of the heretic's basement at Gorgagne Mills, he had been beside himself with relief. Estinien, of course, had wasted no time in pointing out how scared Alphinaud had been, how he had fretted, paced about, spoken feeble words of comfort through the freezing air. He, Alphinaud, had denied it, of course. How he must have looked - spoiled, naïve, playing at politics beyond his ken as he attempted his best and most formal ' _thank you_ ' speech to the Knight stationed outside the Mills - made his stomach churn. 

For the first time, he had not felt the quiet simmer of rage or the clench of his chest that usually followed such an event. He had felt something wholly different; a boiling heat creeping up his neck and his ears as his mind frantically pieced together a narrative that seemed at once the most wonderful thing he had ever experienced, and woefully, painfully adolescent.

If Estinien had noticed his behaviour in such detail, then he must have been looking at him. Watched him. Watched him for long enough to notice, made mental notes, and stored this information until the Warrior of Light emerged. It was proof that he, Alphinaud, was part of a story that was amusing enough to tell. He had thought his panic worth sharing.

It set his blood alight, but in a manner that made him want to sink into the snow to hide his shame.

As the days stretched on, he longed for Estinien to remove his helm, so that he could hold a face to this man that inspired such - he cast around for the right word - _obsequious_ behaviour. 

But every time they rested, he would retreat to his tent without a word, not even deigning to remove it. It was maddening. 

When they had met Ysayle and she had warily joined them on their quest, Alphinaud had welcomed her warmly, ignoring the knot of poisonous jealousy growing at his throat. _She_ was clearly fascinated by Estinien in her aloof, detached way, but he himself showed no inclination towards man or woman, or anything, really. Just his single-minded focus towards the dread wyrm that left scant room for anything else. That was - almost - comforting. The thought of seeing him with another was almost too great for Alphinaud to bear. 

Perhaps, he reasoned, attempting to use some of that Sharlayan logic he seemed to have abandoned as of late, he was merely enamoured with the dragoon's competency. Alphinaud had watched the battle against the heretics in Akh Afah with barely-contained awe. Usually he would reserve that for the Warrior of Light; her spellcasting was unmatched, the way she weaved fire, ice and levin left his mind reeling with a fervent desire to do better. But during that battle, he had wondered if a speck of that levin had flown free of its mark; he was transfixed, as though a shard of lightning had anchored him to the spot. Estinien moved like some sort of automaton. No movement was wasted; there was no exact flair, no real elegance - each attack had been performed a hundred times and hit its point with minute precision. For a moment, Alphinaud had wondered if Estinien had been bored, until he had flung himself closer, easily knocking off the helmet of a heretic that circled dangerously close. The smile beneath Estinien's own helmet was wild, feral, the lips curved in glee as his lance met the wonderfully soft spot between the heretic's throat and chest, warped and scaled, halfway through transformation. And his _voice._ Ringing out from between the shattering ice and the roaring spellwork, it ripped through the air, a frantic, growling thing that caused Alphinaud's fingertips to falter; his Carbuncle wheeled around furiously, as though sensing his wavering resolve. 

The Warrior of Light cast a clever stunning spell with a spin of her staff; several heretics froze in place. Alphinaud concentrated hard; perhaps he could manipulate their aether before they broke free, but before the words had even tumbled from his lips, Estinien had appeared from nowhere, raking through the sky and bringing his lance down, splitting one heretic's shoulder like a knife through seared meat. 

Alphinaud's breath caught in his throat, and it had naught to do with the cold, nor the blood, nor the fear. 

***

Perhaps it was the thinning air in the Churning Mists. Perhaps it was the sight of Nidhogg's lair; an angry purple bruise in the sky. Estinien was growing restless; he kept charging ahead without discussion, cutting through the horde rather than attempting to maneuver around them. More than once Alphinaud had needed to rest against a rock or under those strange trees, his head spinning from the scarce air and the exertion. 

A low roar signified that they were fast becoming surrounded - several Diresaur had emerged from the rocks. Quicker than Alphinaud could call his Carbuncle, Estinien had launched himself at one of them, his lance spearing its side. The others faltered, wary, but it was no use; one of them, the largest, a vicious, snarling creature, was caught to the floor, speared by the end of the lance. Estinien looked up expectantly, one hand on the lance, the other tangled in the mass of spikes on the Diresaur's back.

It dawned on him - a glorious, warm, wonderful dawn - that he was deliberately holding it in place so that he, Alphinaud, could finish it off. 

Thinking hard, which was difficult as his mind was utterly scrambled, he prepared to drain its aether, but it was not enough; the beast growled and shrieked in pain as he felt the aether collect and pool at his fingers - almost - just a little longer - 

Estinien put it out of its misery by thrusting the lance clean through its neck. 

Alphinaud felt a familiar wave of disappointment; he couldn't keep up, not with Estinien nor the Warrior of Light. He looked up at Estinien, hoping his gratitude showed plainly on his face, as his voice had deserted him. And as fast as it had happened, the dragoon's eyes seemed to meet his own through the helm and a moment passed that felt at once aeons long and infinitesimally short. A smile, a slight nod that said - louder than any shout - _well done._

The Warrior of Light sent a glut of ice beneath the remaining Diresaurs' feet; followed by seething heat. Estinien swung backwards and took out another, and excitement flooded Alphinaud as though he'd stepped into a hot bath. He sent a wave of healing aether over the both of them, shielding them from the swing of the Diresaur's fists.

He _would_ improve, he thought, watching his Carbuncle dance around the ground, avoiding the sharp explosions of ice. So he could stand proudly at Estinien's side. Even if no praise left his lips, being looked at with respect, with - perhaps - affection, like a companion, like perhaps even (his chest ached) a friend. Or perhaps he could be something _more_ -

Something - he decided, squaring up to finish the last Diresaur, his eyes narrow, his breath coming in clouds, his fingers gliding over the grimoire - something like an equal.

**Author's Note:**

> This was in no way brought on by the new Endwalker trailer...nope, not at all.


End file.
